


The Other Side of the Wall (or Laundry Day is Every Day)

by BluBerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, Long-Suffering Remus, M/M, Oral Sex, Pavlov's Sub, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reasons Sirius Black does Laundry so Often, Sirius Black Being an Idiot, Usage of the Word "Taint", and i repeat what the fuck did i write, there are a bunch of ships listed but I promise this is wolfstar, what the fuck did i even write, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluBerd/pseuds/BluBerd
Summary: Sirius has never been the most moral of people, but he's pretty sure that wanking off to the sounds of Remus having sex is crossing some sort of line.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepGlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepGlue/gifts).



> Thank you like a MILLION YEARS to my Fishy (SleepGlue) for dealing with my bellyaching and editing the everloving fuck out of this fic for me <3 I've never smutted before and her help was INVALUABLE.

Sirius Black had never considered himself a particularly moral person. As a child, right and wrong had never been important in his house apart from the gross racist ideology that his parents had been pushing. In school, he’d never had any issue being the naughty kid in class as long as it got him a laugh. The concept of “being good” had never been important to him-- which is why he was so confused about the quandary in which he currently found himself.

The time was 5 am. He laid awake in his bed, eyelids feeling like they weighed 2 tonnes each, completely unable to sleep because he shared a flat with his very good mate Remus Lupin, and the walls were so thin they might as well not even have been there. And Remus had company. Sexy company.

This was not the quandary. Remus had, in fact, had "company" nearly every week since they had moved into the apartment. Honestly, the amount of sex that Sirius had listened to Remus have over the course of their year of living together outside of school was probably greater than the amount of sex that Sirius had, himself, engaged in. And Sirius had engaged in rather a lot of sex. This was also not the quandary. They’d shared a room in boarding school. They had no physical secrets from each other. If anything, they had grown out of their shame and embarrassment over the practicalities of sex years ago, bonding over awkward erections and dirtied bed sheets with the rest of the boys in their dorm.

No, the quandary in which Sirius found himself was that his exhausted mind was prone to fantasizing. Over the course of the past several months, every time he closed his eyes to the rhythmic breathing, soft whining, and general sounds of sex going on next door, it had begun to translate into an increasingly vivid mental picture of his dear, _close_ _friend_ getting sloppily eaten out, or enthusiastically blown, or helplessly rutting against the fitted sheets of his mattress. His mind’s eye could see (in distressing detail) everything from the arch in Remus’ back as he pushed back onto a faceless partner’s tongue, to the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, to (most distressingly) the rapturous look on his face.

On this particular night, as he tried not to listen to the noises transition from one tempo into the next, his mind (un)helpfully provided the all-too-clear image of his _friend_ and _roommate_ sighing in relief as the efforts of a dexterous, but too-short tongue were resumed by a rather larger organ; of his pupils dilating and his eyes falling to half-mast as he was reeled backwards by the hair to be closer to those filthy whispers making it halfway through the wall so all Sirius could make out was the occasional profane murmur and Remus’ breathless laughter in reply over the creaking of bedsprings.

As much as he really _really_ didn’t want to be, Sirius found himself achingly hard, and though he’d never once in his life cared about boundaries, he was certain that touching himself right now would cross a line. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t close them either, because whenever he did he could only see his _dear_ , _childhood friend_ getting positively _reamed_ , and then he only felt more and more conflicted and it was even harder to sleep.

Sirius’ problem was that every moment it got more difficult not to give in to his voyeuristic desires and just _join in,_ because it was clear that the _(hour long_ ) foreplay was coming to a close from the way the mattress was starting up a steady thump against the wall, getting louder and faster by the moment, and when he closed his eyes he swore he could hear the slap of balls against skin.

And he wasn’t touching himself (wasn’t going to do it) but he was so hard and he could hear Remus gasping for air (breathlessly pleading, “Come on-- yeah, give it to me, oh god it’s so--- unh fuck--” voice trailing off into a long, low intermittent string of sound not even made up of _words_ anymore, the unfamiliar voice of his partner starting up again-- murmuring lewd suggestions--urging him, “Come on, come for me-- god, yeah. Fucking-- just like that--” leading back into Remus’ breathy laughter) and maybe he touched himself just a little bit. Just once. Adjusted himself so he wasn’t trapped at an awkward angle in his pyjamas. Let the head of his penis out through the little slit at the front. Maybe wiped off a little of the precome he was leaking, just to get rid of it. Gave himself one stroke just because he really couldn’t help it.

And then he stopped because maybe he wasn’t the most moral person but for as much as it felt _necessary_ it felt a touch more  _wrong_.

And then he heard an unfamiliar grunt from two feet away through the wall and the familiar voice of his _friend_ pleading quietly, softly, “I’m so close, god, just--” and then a whimper and even heavier breathing and a thud against the wall right next to Sirius’ head.

So Sirius stuck his head under his pillow to muffle the sounds of his _platonic roommate coming his brains out_ , grabbed his weeping cock, and tried desperately to think of nothing but his own hand as he wanked himself to completion.

It didn't take long.

When he finally fell asleep, it was to silence and a growing sense of guilt.

He made certain not to come out of his room in the morning until he heard Remus’ company leave.

 

”Good morning,” Remus said from the table when Sirius finally slunk into the kitchen, tea and a plate of eggs sat in front of him as he pored over the morning paper. He appeared to be freshly-showered and ready to face the day. Sirius, on the other hand, was not ready for anything more taxing than some strong coffee and a long, quiet sit, so he grunted a greeting, made his coffee, took his seat across from Remus, and stared off into nothing while Remus continued to methodically look over the paper.

Unbidden, Sirius’ groggy morning brain decided that Remus ought to be the first topic of thought to seep into the almost meditative, early-afternoon sleepy void of his thoughts.

Remus here, at the small table in the small kitchen of their small shared apartment, was almost indistinguishable from Remus back at school: mild-mannered, quiet, and almost remarkable in how average he appeared. Sirius knew now that he chose and executed that image on purpose in everything from his choice of practical haircut to his worn sweater and relaxed brown cords. In school, they'd all taken it at face value--had taken each other at face value in lots of ways. Remus had projected himself as this miniaturized adult and all of them had believed it just as Sirius had projected himself as a whirlwind and had been accepted without question. The same could be said of James and Peter. All four of them had grown up to be something more than they'd wanted to believe they were in school. Remus, perhaps, more than any of them.

Sirius' transformation from rebellious teen to reluctant adult had mostly involved sleeping more and sleeping around less. Remus' had involved rather the opposite. It wasn't that they'd become different people so much as it was that they’d learned that no one had to be all one thing. Sirius could be an independent and unpredictable creature and also do the Sunday crossword and pay the bills on time. Remus could be a reasonable and mature human being and also get his arse eaten out a couple times a week.

It was at this point that Sirius woke up enough to realize that he was thinking about the exact thing he’d been trying _not_ to think about. So he opened his mouth and let out the first thing to come to mind. “Have a nice night?” and WAY TO BE CREEPY Sirius, but at least he had a long-established history of respecting no boundaries ever.

Remus, for his part, had known Sirius far too long to have much of a reaction. He looked up from the paper and took a moment to consider before answering, “I’ve had better. Did we keep you up?”

Sirius shrugged and warmed his fingers on his mug, trying not to think about what “better” sounded like, knowing that he’d probably heard it before. “No worries. It’s not like I’ve never done the same to you.” And that at least was true. Sirius had almost certainly kept Remus up long past his bed time, probably with sex far louder and harder to ignore than what Remus had been up to last night. Moreover, when they’d been younger and wilder he'd done it in their dorm room without even a wall between them to provide a semblance of privacy. Remus though, had a healthy sense of propriety and probably hadn't had to struggle with respecting simple boundaries the way Sirius (increasingly) did. “Are you working tonight?”

Remus shook his head. “Night off. You?”

Sirius grinned for the first time since waking up and shook his head. “Shall we get the old gang together?”

Remus smiled and pulled out his phone.

 

5pm saw their tiny apartment stuffed to the brim with people. 6:30 saw every surface of their living room adorned with empty boxes of Chinese take out. 8pm found everyone happily buzzed, and 9:30 saw Sirius on the giving end of a very sloppy blow job.

The thing about Mundungus Fletcher was that Sirius hadn't liked the guy in school and he didn't like him now, and the lack of affection was mutual.

The thing about Sirius Black was that he fucking _adored_ sucking cock.

It had been months since the last time he had gotten to feel the push of hot, smooth skin sliding past his lips, the warm weight of engorged flesh on his tongue, the stretch of the muscles in his throat... So, when Dung got a little touchy and Sirius could feel the warmth of alcohol tingling in his lips, he dragged him into the bathroom by the belt loops, pushed him against the counter in front of the sink, and spent a few minutes fucking his mouth with his tongue and grinding their hips together before he sank to his knees and got what he was really after.

Neither of them were under any illusions about what this was: they weren't looking for a grand romantic encounter--this was about taking. So, Sirius _took_ Dung’s cock out of his pants and spent a bare few seconds nuzzling along the shaft, getting a feel for its size, before he gripped Mundungus by the hips and worked his throat down onto him in three easy movements.

Dung let out a long breath and threaded his fingers along Sirius’ scalp, gripping such that he was tugging at Sirius’ hair, but holding his head in place rather than pulling toward him or pushing him off. That was a step in the right direction, but still not quite where Sirius wanted to be, so he pulled back slowly until Mundungus’ cock was barely still on his tongue and gave a few good sucks before he gripped Dung's hips harder and suggested that he maybe fuck his face a little. In a matter of moments Dung was thrusting shallowly into Sirius’ mouth and Sirius had drool starting to drip down his chin, and had moved one of his hands down to palm himself through his jeans as he worked.

Sirius found himself melting into the feelings: the challenge of relaxing his throat enough that he didn’t gag, the tiny little gasps of air that he could sneak in between thrusts, and the refief of shoving his hand into his pants to stroke himself to the same rhythm as the cock in his throat.

When he felt the telltale pulse of orgasm on his tongue, he pushed Dung’s hips back against the counter and swallowed with intent, his nose pressed all the way down to the pubic bone, and stroked himself desperately while he ran out of air on Mundungus’ cock, only pulling off, gasping, after both of them were good and spent.

Dung's hands were still tangled in his hair and there was still a line of drool and semen connecting his lips to the head of Mundungus’ cock when the door opened for a split second with a burst of ambient noise and a, “Shite!” before it hurriedly slammed back shut.

A more sober Sirius might have cared, but this Sirius was still buzzed on wine coolers and blissed out on cock and couldn’t possibly have cared less.

He didn’t remember much of the rest of that night, which meant that there must have been a lot more alcohol involved, but the following morning at the kitchen table found him and Remus with much the same dispositions as the previous day-- Remus mildly reading the newspaper with a cup of tea and a small plate of food in front of him, and Sirius nursing a cup of coffee as black as his name.

Remus let them sit in silence for a few minutes before he smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Mundungus Fletcher, huh?”

Sirius buried his face in his hands. “Ugh.” He hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine yet to think about the night before.

Remus laughed gently and teased, “That going to be a thing now?” Sirius could feel the smile in his voice even past the dull ache in his temples.

“Gross,” Sirius said with feeling. “That wasn’t a ‘Mundungus Fletcher’ thing, that was a ‘Sirius needs cock’ thing,” Remus choked on his tea. “Won’t happen again unless I’m gagging for it again and he happens to be there again.”

Remus scoffed as he mopped at spilled tea on his sweater and the table. “Like you couldn’t do better than a guy whose nickname literally means ‘excrement.’”

Sirius chuckled at that. “I certainly _hope_ you’re right on that one.”

There was a moment that was almost, but not _quite_ long enough to be an awkward beat of silence before Remus said in a voice that Sirius could only think to describe as carefully casual, “Well, I mean, next time you’re gagging for it, there is a perfectly functional cock right here in your very own apartment.”

Sirius’ brain went offline for a fraction of a second before it started up a rapid-fire highlight reel of some of the things he’d heard and seen in his mind’s eye regarding the perfectly functional cock right there in his very own apartment, and then went through a dozen inappropriate, too sincere, and downright creepy possible responses to that, while also doing his very best to control the expression on his face. He finally settled on a smirk and a, “Really? And where might I find that?”

Remus laughed and threw a piece of toast at him from across the table and that was the end of that conversation. And Sirius even did a great job not thinking about it over the next few days as they did their grocery shopping and went to work and just generally carried on with their lives like they normally did until Remus brought another guy home from the club where they both bartended in the wee hours.

This time Sirius could swear that they were trying to be heard all the way across the _street._ Honestly the amount of talking going on was more characteristic of Sirius’ hookups than of Remus’, but Sirius was in no place to judge. He was doing a good job that night too, of not crossing any lines or doing anything that he would feel guilty about the next day. He was nodding off to the almost soothing sounds of rhythmic fucking when he heard a voice that was _definitely_ Remus’ give off a long, low, “fuuuuuuuuuuuuck” that sounded like it was right in his ear. And suddenly, all his mind’s eye could see was Remus bent over on the bed, head pressed into the mattress up by the wall, arse lifted high in the air while a near-stranger slowly worked himself into him. “Oh f-- hnnnh,” getting fucked into, “hh- hh- hnn-” in short, intense little bursts. Grabbing onto his dick, “hh- hh-” and just holding onto it. Not really moving except to stroke mindlessly at the foreskin with his thumb. “Hn- ah!” arching into it, taking what he was given--

Sirius opened his eyes, wide and unseeing in the darkness, pulled the pillow over his ears. Started desperately trying to think about anything _but_ Remus or the way that he was leaking in his pyjamas, again. And then his treacherous memory spat back those words at him: _...a perfectly functional cock, right here in your very own apartment._ He felt his breath getting heavier, unbidden. _...Next time you’re gagging for it..._ And, well, he rather was gagging for it, now wasn’t he. The sounds of labored breathing that the pillow was successfully blocking out gave way to a long whine that was impossible not to hear and Sirius found himself completely incapable of not imagining Remus getting fucking _plowed_ and * _thump_ * god, getting thrown onto his back and just--

_Next time you’re gagging for it, there is a perfectly functional cock right here in your very own apartment._

That sounded an awful lot like permission.

He let go of the pillow he’d been pressing around his ears.

“Oh- fuh-- hnnnn.”

Or maybe he just really wanted it to be permission.

Wrapped a hand around his cock.

Remus’ bed was thumping against the wall.

He moved his hand in time with it, trying to stay quiet, trying to keep his hips from jerking on his bed, from making the springs in his mattress creak, but getting a little bit too bold about it because he knew that the noises coming from over there were much louder. Could cover up his own indiscretions.

But then the thumping slowed. Stopped. Sirius heard a loud groan from a voice he didn’t recognize, heard Remus’ voice, quiet. Indistinct. Playful. Goading.

Heard a thud against the bed and a sharp peal of laughter that turned into a moan, a, “Hah--oh fuck. Mmmm, yeah, that’s. Hhhhhhhhnn,”

Snuck a hand behind him, arched until he could reach his prostate from a decent angle. _Milked it_ while listening to Remus’ encouraging, breathy moans.

Felt himself getting impossibly harder- getting closer. Two fingers in his arse, nailing his prostate as he shuddered, he stroked his cock so lightly he could barely maintain it. Breath getting heavier, louder. Started noticing some of his voice bleed into his breathing.

Oh god they could probably hear him in the next room.

Eyes closed, he could imagine it. Remus pinned to the bed. Being devoured. Speared on a stranger’s fingers, his hands gently guiding a warm mouth up and down, up and down, straining to keep his hips from moving back onto the fingers or forth into the throat-- taking his time, reveling in the feeling of sex, listening to Sirius’ breathing through the wall getting louder, faster, harder to deny.

Sirius twisted around to bury his face in his pillow and saw stars as he came, gasping for air through the soft cotton, panting as quietly as he could manage so he wouldn't be heard. (He was certain he was heard.)

He knew he’d feel guilty about it the next day, but for now he was too exhausted to feel much of anything.

He rolled to the other side of the mattress to miss his wet spot and fell promptly asleep to the sounds of Remus reaching orgasm not a foot away from his head, just on the other side of the wall.

 

Sirius didn't get out of his bed that day until he knew Remus had left the house. Then, the first thing he did was push his bed three feet across the room so that it was against the opposite wall. He knew it wouldn't help that much, but at least he could pretend to himself that he was trying. Then he took his nasty, crusty bed sheet and dumped it in the washing machine with the rest of his laundry and put it on a heavy wash cycle, trying to do away with the evidence.

But it didn't change the black guilt that was spinning around and gathering in a dark pit in his stomach. Sirius took great pride in his shamelessness, in how hard he was to embarrass. This wasn't that. This was a feeling much darker than that ever was.

He hadn't really known that he had limits. Like, obviously he knew that there were some vague moral guidelines influencing his behaviour, but he had thought that the extent of it revolved around hurting people. And, sure, he had suspected that this exact thing might cross some boundaries, but he had assumed that the consequences would be more of the "changing his understanding of his relationship with Remus" type than the "you are actually going to feel incredibly guilty about this whole thing" type. Much to his surprise, the problem wasn't that his mental image of Remus had changed, it was that he hadn't explicitly gotten permission. He felt like something of a Peeping Tom, and that felt yucky.

It felt yucky in his soul parts.

And so he did the only thing there is to do when you feel yucky in your soul parts: he wrapped himself up in his duvet to make a big blanket burrito, and laid there in silence with the lights off, dozing on and off in misery until Remus returned to the flat and found him some hours later.

He knocked on the door and then pushed it gently open when there was no reply. He took a moment to take in the scene in front of him (the bed's new location, the bare mattress, Sirius' burrito status) and drew some of his own conclusions before he stepped into the room. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius shook his head from under the layers of blankets and sighed. It was a few seconds before he worked up the gumption to speak at all, and when he did, it was just, "I'm sorry."

Now, Sirius couldn't see out from where his face was buried in the warm embrace of linens, but the beat of silence preceding the words sounded confused. "Sorry? What on Earth for?"

Sirius stilled. Was it possible that Remus hadn't heard him? Obviously he felt bad about it either way, but he was so certain he'd been heard. He poked his head out from the midst of his nest and failed to make eye contact, his gaze tracking across his room to the wall between his and Remus' rooms. "Last night I uh, I heard..." he trailed off, not really wanting to continue.

Remus snorted with something of a kindly smile on his face. "The walls are pretty thin, Sirius. If anything I should be the one apologizing to you for that."

And that really wasn't the problem. And Sirius was going to come clean about it now, because maybe then he'd stop feeling like the inside of his stomach was trying to eat through to the outside of his stomach. "But I..." and he looked to his bare mattress, hoping that Remus would get the hint.

Remus glanced at the sheetless mattress that clearly implied exactly what Sirius had been up to and his mouth took on an amused twist. "Yes?" Like he didn’t understand the connection between his sexual exploits and Sirius’ current predicament.

And so Sirius buried his head back under his blankets and drew them closer around himself like somehow that would bury his shame. Then he miserably blurted out, "I got off on listening to you." His voice sounded muffled and miserable even to his own ears.

Outside the comforting warmth and closeness of his little nest, Remus was quiet again for long enough that Sirius was sure he had left the room completely disgusted with him, but then he felt his mattress shift with the introduction of a new weight, and finally heard his voice again. "So what’s the problem?"

And Sirius was compelled to emerge, confused. He thought that maybe seeing Remus' face could help. "No, that's it."

Remus regarded him rather like he imagined one would regard a stupid child and then said very slowly and with a tremendous amount of patience, "Sirius, I've been masturbating to your sexual escapades since we shared a dorm room."

In that moment, everything stopped. Sirius' heart stopped. His lungs stopped. Time stopped. The only thing still working was Sirius’ brain, running serious overtime to superimpose this _incredibly relevant_ data on every interaction he could remember having with Remus over the course of the past 5 years.

"You've been what?"

Remus shrugged, suddenly seeming a bit uncomfortable. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"No, I mean, it's not, I just," he struggled with words for a moment. "I didn't want to be creepy."

There was a moment of hesitation before, "Have I been creepy?"

And Sirius gave it a few honest moments of thought. Then he gave it a few much more hedonistic moments of thought. Then he answered honestly. "More hot than creepy, really," and he grinned as Remus let out a little huff of relief.

"So, everything's okay, then?"

Sirius nodded in reply, feeling it in a way he hadn’t been sure that he would. "Yeah, everything’s okay."

Remus’ smile in that moment was 50% relief and 50% pure happiness and Sirius felt a different kind of tension tighten in his gut.

“Do you want some help moving your bed back?”

Now that... was a loaded question. Or maybe Sirius was suddenly reading way too much into this?

Was Remus offering just to be friendly? To say, “It’s not a big deal, Sirius, you don’t have to change your room to get away from your... feelings.” Or was it something with... more... meaning. An innuendo. An implication. An, “I like knowing you can hear me.”

And maybe Sirius froze for a little too long, because Remus’ expression turned sheepish as he backed out of the room, saying, “Never mind. I’ll make some tea.”

Sirius spent another moment or two motionless on his bed, layers of blankets pulled up around his shoulders, and then he crawled out of the nest.

And pushed his bed back against his and Remus’ shared wall.

Then he went and moved his laundry into the dryer.

He spent the rest of the evening before they headed off to work in companionable silence with Remus in the warm glow of their kitchen.

Sirius put the sheets back on his bed before they left.

 

At work that night, Sirius found himself hyper-aware of Remus. As he always did for work, he had changed out of his comfortable, sensible sweater and his loose-fitting trousers to something that would get him more tips. Sirius had seen the transformation hundreds of times, but somehow, tonight, it seemed more... distracting. Remus was rather distinct enough in his sensible cardigans, but the fitted button-up he'd selected for the night highlighted the lean planes of his body, and Sirius had a hard time keeping his eyes or his mind to himself. He’d probably heard the warm timbre of Remus’ laugh thousands of times over the course of the years they’d lived in each others’ pockets, but that night... that night it made him want things.

And for the past year _at least_ he’d known that Remus had been hiding a really nice arse under all those loose-fitting trousers and overlarge sweaters. But, that night…

That night Sirius was drooling after it. Could hardly keep his attention on his customers or their drinks with the _constant_ knowledge that Remus’ arse was mere feet away from him and that he had been granted permission to think about it. Well, at least told that Remus didn’t mind if he did. Though it had been heavily implied that it would not be tolerated so much as welcome…

Regardless, Sirius’ mind had been on Remus’ arse all night, so he was all keyed up when an incredibly fit redhead came up to the counter with intent in his eyes. “Gin and tonic?”

Sirius’ mind was still at least 15% on Remus, but suddenly he found he could focus on a transaction.

He made the drink and set it in front of the customer to be met with a stack of bills and a few minutes of friendly conversation, by the end of which Sirius had already made up his mind about extending an invitation.

“I’m off at 3 if you’d like to come back to mine.”

The look that met him was appraising and lascivious all at once- an intensely thorough once over that had _weight_. Sirius felt his cock twitch in his pants. “Good by me. What’s your name, by the way?”

Sirius felt the smile on his face turn predatory. “Sirius. And yourself?”

“Fabian,” he replied with a lazy grin and another _really_ thorough look before he sauntered off to sit at a table populated by three other red-headed people he had presumably come with to the bar.

They made it through the rest of the night without event. Fabian walked back to the flat with Remus and Sirius making light, casual conversation and then when Sirius showed him to his room he immediately wheeled Sirius around, pressing him against the door and sliding his thigh between Sirius’ legs, which Sirius thoroughly approved of. He had been craving this for hours.

Sirius rode his thigh for a minute while they necked, breathing patterns getting less predictable and more ragged by the second.

Fabian grabbed Sirius by the hip, stopping his movements before sliding his hand back to palm his arse and whisper roughly into his ear, “You are incredibly fit, did you know that?”

“Hehh,” Sirius breathed and pressed his entire body harder against the man in front of him. "And have you any plans for me?”

Fabian’s answer was to lick into his mouth and pull him in roughly at the same time he slid his free hand _slowly_ up the planes of Sirius’ body to settle at the nape of his neck. Sirius, for his part, stuck both of his hands right down the back of Fabian’s pants and squeezed.

He rather lost track of how they ended up on the bed, but he was happy they were there because there were suddenly so many more options.

He helped Fabian out of his clothes, not even bothering with his own because what he really wanted in that very moment was Fabian’s cock in his mouth, and Sirius’ clothing was hardly a detriment to that plan, and getting naked would waste whole _seconds_ that could be better spent on sexier endeavors.

Sirius guided him so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs splayed to either side of Sirius as Sirius knelt on the floor, and drew him deep into his throat all at once. He heard a moan, deep and low. Felt him thread his fingers through Sirius’ hair and _yank_. Closed his eyes and moaned into it, trying to make it as obvious as possible that he’d like his mouth to be USED please and thank you very much. Stuck his hand in his pants to grip his dick, squeeze a little.

But apparently Fabian wasn’t really in the mood for a blow job, because he pulled Sirius’ whole face off of him, guided his head up the bed and down on to the mattress and his hips so that Sirius’ arse was up in the air, pulled his jeans down just to mid thigh, and went to town on his hole, stretching him, and eating him out. He asked about lube at some point and Sirius gestured vaguely to the nightstand and after that things were wet and messy. Sirius was desperately thrusting his hips against air and straining against his own clothing because his pants were trapping his legs together, keeping him away from the delicious friction of the bed underneath him, and whenever he tried to reach for his aching, dripping cock, Fabian would STOP WHAT HE WAS DOING TO GRAB HIS HANDS and put them back where he wanted them before he’d resume his ministrations, licking at his rim and his taint and stroking at his prostate and generally making Sirius lose control of everything his hips and his voice were doing.

And as Sirius was gripping the sheets and mewling into his pillow and arching his back as much as he POSSIBLY could to try to get more pressure, more anything, he heard it through the wall: the sound of a single, solitary, muffled, bitten-off moan.

And that ratcheted everything up to an even higher, more desperate level because Sirius was there getting rimmed within an inch of his life, but fucking Remus Lupin was over there, just feet away, separated by nothing but a quarter inch of drywall and a couple coats of paint, and he was getting off on this too. And suddenly Sirius needed a lot more.

So he panted into the bed, “So are you going to fuck me tonight? Or are you just-- ah f-fuck-- gonna--oh. Oh, god...” and then he completely lost his train of thought because Fabian was exceptionally talented with his tongue.

But Fabian got the idea and decided to take pity on Sirius. He rolled off of him and rolled on a condom and then he sat in the middle of the bed stroking his lubed up dick, saying with a smirk, “Alright you want it? Work for it.”

Sirius laughed a little dopily even as his cock twitched and said, “You really know how to romance a guy,” but he was licking his lips and _finally_ stripping off his trousers the rest of the way and moving over eagerly to sink down onto Fabian with a sigh of relief even as he worked his hips a little to make the fit easier.

Fabian, immediately had his hands on Sirius and nipped at his flesh through the fabric of his shirt. “Mmmm- I dunno, seems to be, uhn, seems to be working out pretty well for me so far.”

Sirius let his head fall back and wiggled his hips a little and let himself take a moment to feel. Hitched up an inch or so and let gravity pull him back down. Punched a little breath out of himself. Did it again. Felt Fabian’s hands tighten compulsively and started riding him in earnest. Listened to the springs creak beneath them. Listened to Fabian’s breathing pick up. Listened to the quiet, nearly imperceptible noises only barely making it through the wall get swallowed up by the noises made by much closer things happening right there in his bed.

Fabian got fed up with the pace after a couple of minutes and flipped them over so that he could get a better angle, have more leverage to pump into Sirius faster and harder. Sirius was sure his voice was coming out in a constant, low whine, but he was so distracted by trying to touch himself everywhere, stroking his cock, running his palms over the fabric of his shirt to press against his straining nipples through the soft cotton, tangling his fingers in his own hair, being completely incapable of deciding where he wanted his hands, that he couldn’t even register what his own voice was doing. Didn’t have that much control over his body anymore.

It was then that he heard Fabian grunt, felt his rhythm stutter, and slow, and after a couple more hard, punishing thrusts he was pulling out and yanking the condom off, and Sirius was whining louder now, more needily, because he needed _so much_ and he didn’t have _anything_ and then, before he knew it, he was being manhandled up against the wall, legs pushed as wide as they’d go. Two fingers were shoved right against his prostate with a thumb stroking right up behind his balls at the same time as he was swallowed in a single movement, and he was sure that Remus wasn’t the only one in the apartment complex who could hear the noise he made at that development. “Ah! F-fuck- hn...”

Fabian used his free hand to push some of the sweaty hair back off of his forehead and looked up at Sirius only once before he closed his eyes and really went to town.

And Sirius was an exposed live wire. He felt electric- alive inside of his skin- overstimulated in the best way- and as he felt himself getting closer and closer to going over the edge, the thing that finally did it was a single muffled groan from just through the wall, inches away from his ear, and then he was coming harder than he’d ever come before in his entire life.

When he had finally regained control of his shaky limbs, he drew Fabian into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as they settled down on the bed, and they traded kisses lazily until they both fell asleep, Sirius maintaining the quiet awareness of Remus drifting off right along with them, just next door.

 

He and Fabian said their goodbyes in the morning after they had a cordial breakfast with Remus, clearly having no desire to stay in contact but quite well-versed in hook-up etiquette. Remus and Sirius didn’t talk about it--didn’t need to talk about it--and life went on in the same way it had before, except with rather a lot more laundry to do and rather a lot less embarrassment about it.

But Sirius’ new and constant awareness of where Remus was, and what he was doing hadn’t gone away in the weeks following Fabian; if anything it had just gotten harder to ignore.

Especially right then at that very moment, because Remus was in the shower and Sirius had an unsettlingly active imagination in addition to his predilection toward thinking about Remus _all the time._ And Remus showered _every day._ And Sirius had been dealing with this torture for _weeks._ So, in that very moment, he decided to do something about it.

Aware that he was being kind of a creep, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall just across from the bathroom door, waiting for Remus to finish up. It didn’t take too long. Remus was a very efficient person, after all.

When Remus opened the door, he started a bit, clearly not expecting Sirius’ presence. He chuckled at his own jumpiness, asking, “Did you need to use the bathroom?”

Sirius gave himself half a second to think about that. To give himself an out. To make up his mind.

“No.”

Well, that was that decision made. He was really going to do this.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Okay...” and started making his way down the hallway past Sirius, towel wrapped around his waist, clearly content to ignore his roommate's (not completely uncharacteristic) weirdness with little more than a side-eye.

Sirius, feeling his courage and (therefore) his opportunity slip away from him, started talking, “Uh, Remus?”

Remus turned around. “Yes?”

“Uh,” and this was the awkward part. The part that needed so much of that courage and brashness that Sirius had dedicated his youth to convincing himself he possessed in spades. “A few weeks ago,” he felt his face prickling, heating up. Hated that he was blushing for this, but pushed through it. “You said that if I was g-” he choked a little bit on nervous saliva flooding his mouth. “You uh-”

Fuck it.

“I'd like to blow you.”

The silence and stillness in the hallway was deafening.

Remus, who had been looking at him almost fondly as he had stammered through the first (failed) parts of his little speech, now looked completely stunned, his features slack and more defenseless than Sirius had ever seen them before.

“Um.” He blinked helplessly a couple of times. “Right now?”

And- okay, fair question. And Sirius was about to brush it off. To say, “You know, just sometime,” but he was suddenly struck by the mental image of taking Remus as he was, right then. Of pinning his hips to the wall and letting the single towel that stood between them fall to the floor by his feet. Of touching Remus, _really_ touching him for the first time in their hallway, in full view of the door. Of being fully clothed, on his knees as Remus, skin still damp from the shower, held his head and guided him into a rhythm that would _wreck_ him.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly, voice a little rougher than he thought it would be. “Right now.”

And Sirius could see the intensity of the breaths that Remus was drawing into his lungs because he was only wearing a _towel_. He could see the movement of the Adam’s apple drawing down his throat and then back up as he gulped. He watched Remus’ pupils expand as he scanned Sirius intently, making sure that this wasn’t just some prank. Making sure that this wasn’t just for a lark. Making sure that Sirius was... serious.

Sirius had never been more sincere about anything in his entire life.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost like he was afraid to be heard. Like he still wasn’t certain this was really happening. “Okay.”

There were about 2 meters between the two of them. As much as Sirius was tempted to close that space in a rush, pin Remus to the wall, and take him apart piece by piece, it didn’t feel right.

What felt right was to walk up to him slowly, almost timidly, watching Remus watch him the entire time like he was so certain that Sirius was going to change his mind. Was going to walk away. Watch his eyes get wider as Sirius got closer and closer until there was a hair’s breadth of space between them. Until they could each feel the heat emanating from the other person.

What felt right was to brush the wet hair away from Remus’ eyes and then keep his hand resting so softly that it _ached_ right there on Remus’ cheek and give him the sweetest, most gentle kiss that he had ever given to another person in his entire life. To wait a moment afterward while their lips and noses brushed against each other until Remus pressed forward for another one. One that was much deeper. Much _more_.

And with that it was like a seal had come off and all of the pent up emotion and tension that had existed between them for months came pouring out all at once.

Hands traveled and stroked along lines of flesh, clutching at clothing and pulling at hair. Bodies twisted and pushed against each other, and damp terry cloth fell to the floor.

And then _Sirius_ fell to his _knees_ , lips shiny with saliva, hair in a mess flying at all angles away from his head. He felt lost in this and so overwhelmed that he looked at Remus like he was a lifeline, because this was too important to just blunder through. And Remus’ breath hitched and he softly stroked his fingers through Sirius’ hair before letting them rest lightly at the back of his head, and guiding him so gently forward- a suggestion, not a command- and Sirius could have sobbed in relief at the first moment he felt the weight of that blessed cock on his tongue. Took his time licking and slurping around the base, working his way up the shaft, just enjoying the whole experience of sucking cock for once instead of rushing all the way to the end.

He snuck a glance up at Remus and lost his breath for a moment.

Remus looked... transcendent. Eyes closed. Breath ragged. Abs straining with the effort of keeping his hips still.

And that was quite enough of that.

He quickened the pace just a touch, finally swallowing Remus. Letting the head of his cock track along the roof of his mouth until it hit the soft palate. Staying there a moment just to suck, savor the feeling, revel in the taste of the salty, bitter precome that was spurting at an increasing rate from the tip. Relaxing his throat to take Remus in further. Moaning a bit at the little huff of air Remus let out upon the breach.

He set his hands on Remus’ hips, guiding them forward and back, gently encouraging Remus to use him, take what he wanted, give Sirius what he needed, and then gave into temptation to slide his fingers back just a bit further and give Remus’ delicious arse a delicious squeeze, hopefully push him a little further into Sirius’ throat with a little more force.

And dear lord did he ever.

The hands resting gently on the back of Sirius’ head gripped much more firmly, and that was the only warning before Remus delivered three shallow but _intense_ thrusts straight down to the back of Sirius’ throat.

Sirius made some truly encouraging sounds and sacrificed one of his hands (from the utter _glory_ that was Remus Lupin’s arse) to grab desperately at himself through his jeans.

Remus drew all the way out and let Sirius drag in two desperate pulls of air before he slowly pushed back in the full length of his cock and then delivered a barrage of quick, hard thrusts that had his balls slapping rapidfire against Sirius’ chin, and Sirius leaking an impressive amount of precome within the _torturous_ confines of his trousers.

The next time he drew back far enough for Sirius to draw a breath, they looked at each other: Remus with water still dripping from his hair, breathing heavy and shaky, heart eyes full blast; Sirius grasping desperately at the bulge in his pants, drool sliding down his chin, pupils blown up to almost the full size of his iris, and a look on his face declaring that he would do nothing less than _anything_ Remus requested of him in that very moment.

Remus’ hand clenched unbidden in Sirius’ hair. Sirius moaned helplessly, open mouth, open throat.

Remus fed his cock back in and started fucking in earnest, never quite pulling out far enough for Sirius to get a full breath of air, never quite depriving him enough that his vision fuzzed all the way black.

When Remus came in Sirius’ throat, Sirius came in his pants.

When Remus pulled his softening cock out of Sirius’ mouth, Sirius slumped against his thigh, breathing hard.

It was full minutes later when they’d both managed to catch their breath, but Sirius hadn’t moved from where he was nuzzling at Remus’ thigh like he was hypnotized, so Remus took it upon himself to break the silence.

“Sirius?”

Sirius didn’t respond vocally, but the nuzzling stopped.

“Let’s have a nap, shall we?” And Sirius let himself be guided into Remus’ room and divested of his (effectively soiled) clothing, and cuddled into submission as Remus’ breathing got slower and deeper and Sirius’ slowly changed to match it.

 

When Sirius woke up it was late afternoon, nearing 4 judging by the quality of the light and of the shadows in the room (and by the clock on Remus' dresser). His throat felt destroyed and he felt really _really_ good about that.

He felt considerably less good about waking up alone.

Now, Sirius was not the most emotionally intelligent person and he would admit that freely about himself, but even he had started to figure out that he had some… feelings regarding Remus. Maybe even some pretty important ones. But that fledgling knowledge hadn’t remotely prepared him for how _empty_ waking up alone would make him feel.

The room was bathed in sunshine, but Sirius felt cold.

He was still debating internally about whether to go back to his own room before it got awkward or just wallow in Remus’ bed indefinitely, when the man himself walked in with a pair of pajama pants hanging low on his hips and a glass of water in each hand. A gentle smile lit his face when his eyes landed on Sirius.

“Have a nice nap?” He asked as he handed Sirius one glass and set the other on his nightstand.

A little speck of warmth started up in his belly as he returned Remus’ smile and patted the bed fondly. “I think your mattress is more ergonomic than mine.” His voice was exactly as rough as he thought it would be. He gulped down half the water as Remus settled on the bed.

“I think you’re just saying that because it’s more comfortable when you don’t have to share your bed with crumbs.”

Sirius snorted at that. “I’ll have you know that I wash my sheets far too often for any crumbs to take up residence, ta very much,” and then he finished off the water before reaching over the bed to set it next to the other glass.

A laugh came from low in Remus’ throat. “I suppose you do, at that.” Sirius didn’t miss the lecherous slant to the words.

He grabbed dramatically at his heart. “Remus John Lupin are you taking a _pot shot_ at my masturbatory habits?”

Remus looked off into nothing with a would-be innocent look on his face. “I didn’t say a thing, I only agreed with you about the-”

And Sirius _maneuvered_ himself at the most awkward angle possible to tackle Remus to the bed and start wiggling his fingers at Remus’ sides. “I think I know when someone’s teasing me, Remus Lupin-”

Remus immediately started squirming, “-Ahhhaahahaha- oh god stop it- haha-” and bucking, “-tickling is- ahahaa- not fair-” and laughing, breathless, “-we’re - hhaahah- meant to be adults!” batting at Sirius’ hands ineffectively.

Sirius doubled down on his efforts, “-and I’ll not stand for it in my house!” He was cackling madly by that point, and that’s what gave Remus the opening he needed to switch their circumstances.

“Oh fuck-”

“That’s right, oh how the TABLES HAVE TURNED,” Remus declared with something of a mad glint in his eye.

“Unce! Uncle!” Sirius called out laughing,  hands held defensively in front of him. “You win!”

Remus huffed a little, but levied himself off and collapsed onto the mattress facing Sirius as the hitching remnants of laughter evened out of their breath.

With all of the noise and energy of their typical exploits gone, a quiet intensity filled the air between them.

Sirius couldn’t help but think of the similar intensity which had infused the hallway just before Remus fucked the absolute SHIT out of Sirius’ face. Remus could clearly tell what Sirius was thinking, so he did the reasonable thing and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius absolutely _did_ want to talk about it. The only problem was the he didn’t know which part exactly it was _Remus_ wanted to talk about, because really there were a lot of things about it that could probably bear some discussion. For instance, maybe Remus just wanted to talk about _feelings_ or something. Or maybe he wanted to talk about how that _really_ didn’t feel like a normal hookup in _really_ a lot of ways. Maybe he wanted to talk logistics or figure out what exactly this whole thing meant for _them._ Maybe he wanted to bask. Maybe he wanted to talk about how this was a horrible idea and he never wanted to do it again. There were so many possibilities that Sirius found himself splashing around in a metaphorical mire of things he potentially wanted to talk about and potentially wanted to never talk about ever and really that all depended on Remus.

So he just said, “Do you?”

Remus shrugged. “I feel like we probably should.”

And Sirius was on board with this plan. Sirius was a huge fan of figuring things out in the most direct way possible and talking about it was very much in that vein. And, even better, if Remus wanted to talk about it then, Remus could start the conversation and then Sirius could figure out what specific thing it was that they were meant to talk about. “Alright, have at, then.”

And at that Remus took on the appearance of a person who was quite less certain and less forthright than the person that Sirius was used to seeing. Though he shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance, he clearly stumbled over his words when they came out. “Erm- you can go first.”

That was all Sirius needed to hear to know that Remus was just as lost in this whole thing as _he_ was, and it gave him all the information he needed to do what he did best -- forge blindly ahead. “Honestly there’s so much that we might talk about that I don’t even know where you want to start.”

All of the tension seeped out of Remus body. “Glad to hear we’re in the same boat, then.”

Sirius huffed out a laugh and then cleared his throat and put on a really terrible German accent, and tried to project a therapist’s expression through the smirk that wouldn’t leave his face. “Well, let’s start with how you’re feeling, hmm?” And wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.

Remus tried not to smile as he shook his head. “You do a terrible Freud,” but he went quiet and thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again, anyway. “I’m feeling… more relaxed about this whole thing than I thought I would.”

And Sirius was surprised enough to completely drop his persona and say, “You thought about this? And you thought that you’d be, what? Freaking out?”

Remus scoffed, looked at Sirius like he was an idiot, and told him outright, “I _literally_ offered you this _exact_ thing _weeks_ ago. I think it’s pretty fair to say I’d been thinking about it.”

Sirius smiled sheepishly and then remembered his Freud impression. “Ahh, yes, I see,” he hummed, pretending to take notes with an imaginary pencil on his palm. “And how long would you say that you had been thinking about it?” And then he looked back up to Remus’ face.

Much to Sirius’ surprise, Remus _grimaced_ and turned his face into the mattress, mumbling out a muffled answer that was impossible to make out. Sirius was _delighted._

“Sorry, what was that?” he said maintaining his terrible accent but completely failing to keep the shit-eating grin off his face.

Remus, for his part, turned just enough out of the sheets that he could be heard but not seen and hesitantly forced out, “a few years, maybe.”

And Sirius completely dropped his (very unconvincing) act and vaulted half a meter so that he was practically on top of Remus, grabbing and shaking him by the shoulders and generally making a complete arse of himself. “A few YEARS?!”

And Sirius’ animation fueled some of Remus’ own, as he twisted around and sat up, poking Sirius in the chest with a very accusing finger. “Well how about YOU, Mr. Black? This whole talk has been PRETTY one-sided, so far.”

So Sirius barked out a laugh and sat back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, casual as you like. “Alright, what d’you want to know?”

“Well,” Remus crossed his own arms and raised an eyebrow to let Sirius know that he was in trouble. “Let’s start with your little _plan_ , shall we?” Sirius started to sweat. “How long were you, Sirius Black, planning to _proposition me_ in the HALLWAY of our apartment _right after_ I got out of the shower?”

And okay, maybe in retrospect that hadn’t been the classiest way to pull this whole thing off, but it had worked out alright in the end, hadn’t it? “Well, that might have been a bit of a spur of the moment thing…”

Remus just nodded with a disapproving sigh, but it felt like he was saying, “Of course it was Sirius, you utter tit.”

And Sirius kind of grimaced and said, “Well, I mean it worked out alright, didn’t it?”

And Remus thought about it, and then he _thought about it,_ and his gaze warmed up _really_ quickly as he said, “I suppose it did.”

What followed were a few seconds of silent staring in which they failed tremendously at not looking like they were getting revved up again, because they actually, totally were.

So their breath started to pick up and they began to lean in to each other and then Sirius was reaching out to pull Remus further toward him, but Remus stopped him with a hand to the chest, “No, we really do have to talk about this.”

Sirius pulled back blinking, confused. “I thought that we just did that.”

And Remus licked his lips and cleared his throat and overall did a very good job of looking like it was very difficult to keep his mind where he needed it to be. “I mean, we have to talk about… about what exactly it is we’re doing,” and he met Sirius’ eyes as if to communicate to him that this was _important stuff, dammit._ “We _live_ together. We need to have some rules or guidelines or boundaries or just _something_ for whatever this is going to be.”

Sirius took a deep breath and leaned back, giving himself about two seconds to think before deciding, _fuck that I didn’t get this far by thinking_ , and he opened his mouth to let his thoughts spill out. “This can be whatever you want it to be. I’d probably take anything,” he admitted in a just slightly too-honest kind of way, but he was not too mired in self-consciousness to notice how floored Remus looked at the revelation. “I mean, I rather like you--”

“You like me?” and Sirius felt kind of bad about how surprised Remus sounded about this.

“Piss off of course I like you-”

“ _Like me_ , like me?” and Remus was half taking the shit because he had always been a bit of a wanker just like the rest of them, but he was also half-sincere and that made Sirius ache inside his chest, so he reached out for Remus’ face and pulled him forward and kissed him with _feeling._

It started off with gentle warmth, with fingers cupping Remus’ jaw, thumbs stroking lightly along his cheekbones, just dry lips against dry lips-- but then he nuzzled deeper into Remus’ space, hands sliding further back to rest just behind his ears. And then he turned his brain off. He stopped thinking about what he was doing with his hands and his mouth and just focused on _feeling_. More specifically, on the knot of longing that had been tightening and growing and tightening some more right at the juncture of his stomach and his ribcage. The feeling that had been distracting him when he should have been working or when he should have been eating or even when he tried to draw a full breath of air into his lungs. He thought about all of those feelings and tried to convey them in the simple contact of his mouth against Remus’.

And though it was among the tamer kisses Sirius had indulged in, his breathing was uneven at the end of it.

“Does that answer your bloody question?”

Remus nodded silently like the arsehole he was.

So Sirius continued with his thoughts, talking around what he wanted their relationship to be. “So, obviously I feel the way I feel, but I don’t need to be your everything.”

Remus was looking at him with assessing eyes.

“And if you decide that you want... _whatever this is_ to be exclusive, then I can do that. But that doesn’t seem so important, you know?” He tried to get a gauge on Remus’ feelings by looking at his eyes, but Remus had never been that easy to read, so Sirius just kept on blazing forward. “I mean, all cards on the table here, you’ve been in my life for… well, for most of my life, and I just want to continue that. Indefinitely. And preferably with sex. But, again, that’s all up to you.”

There was an almost imperceptible smile creeping onto Remus’ face (which mostly manifested in a softness around his eyes), so Sirius took that as a good sign and let it spur him into one more confession.

“And if you’re bringing anyone else home, there is no way that I’m not going to continue getting off on that. And if I were invited to join in, I might even say yes.”

And the smile that had been hiding behind Remus’ eyes bloomed all at once into beautiful existence. “That all sounds perfect to me.”

And the joy that bubbled unexpectedly inside Sirius left him grinning like a madman as he said, “Thank god for that, now let’s fuck.”

And they did.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really like 1000% not British at all, but I tried. If there are any mistakes in grammar or syntax or dialect, please let me know and I'm more than happy to fix them :) Other than that, hope you enjoyed. Comments or concrit appreciated <3


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